


Five Nights at Fuck This

by JeromeSankara



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Animatronics are Scary, Being stuffed, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Smut, Family Issues, M/M, Masturbation, New Job, No Kinky Animatronics, Rickyl Writers' Group, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Terror, The Bite of '87, Worst Job, jumpscares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: All Daryl wanted was to get a job that paid alright and let him maybe have a bite to eat every now and then. One ad in the paper later and he's making himself at home in the office of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where magic and shit happens.Mostly shit happens.





	1. 12 AM - Night 1

Boots kicked up onto the metal desk with enough cobwebs underneath to choke a man. The desk chair haphazardly leaned back, arms tucked behind a head of scattered long brown hair in an attempt to get comfortable. He was going to be here a while.

First night on his new job, and he didn't even have to do shit. Just make sure no one breaks into the place until day shift comes in. Perfect for a nightowl like Daryl.

Things had been getting tougher after Merle disappeared to wherever the hell he went. Daryl's job at the restaurant was keeping him afloat until it was shut down when someone leaked that there were rats in the kitchen. They weren't eating nothing, just hanging out. Was a bit of an asshole move now that he thought about it.

After the restaurant closed down, it left Daryl with an apartment he could barely afford with the money he had been saving for a motorcycle, and not a lot of options. Most people looked at him and turned him out the door without even a hello. Others just looked at his last name, realized he was a Dixon, and practically locked the door behind him. One actually did that.

Wasn't like he was hoping to work at a greenhouse in the first place.

But then he decided to pick up a paper with whatever pocket change he had left after buying enough food to last him possibly a week.

**HELP WANTED**

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza

Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift.  
12am-6am

Monitor the cameras, ensure safety of equipment an animatronic characters.  
Not responsible for injury/dismemberment

$120 a week  
To apply call:  
1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR

While the dismemberment spooked him just a bit, (because damn, were the kids that damn strong these days to tear him apart for not letting them stay longer?) the payphone right next to the newspaper dispensor was put to work with the last dime he had. He only had to come once, and within minutes, he had the job.

Sounds like they had people leave all the time from the position. Most claim its because they were caught stealing the money out of the register, messing with the animatronics, one just stank to high heavens, but it didn't matter. It was a job and he wasn't going to give up because they may be a little strict.  
He gave the chair a little spin before hiking the boots up again on the desk, tilting his chair that little farther back.

Who cares, this job was amazing.

All he had to do was make sure this place didn't burn up and he got enough money to cover the rent and a little extra for food. If he did good, they'd let him work a morning shift too and get some pizza too.

The clock chimed, midnight. He had come a bit early to make sure he could get settled in. All they needed him to do was keep inside the office. They said that they would leave a note for him, but there was nothing...

Just this weird cupcake plush that looked like it was staring into his soul.

He gave a huff as he aligned the chair and plopped his feet back onto the ground. There were multiple monitors, but only one was on. There was a mouse to move through the monitors, good... Even more cobwebs... 

_Riiiiing._

_....Riiiiiiiiing._

Blue eyes darted around the nearly empty desk, hands fumbling to where he was hoping the phone was. Who would be calling at this hour?! But just as he picked up the phone and mentally cursed himself for barely even knowing the name of the pizzeria he was working at, the next ring cut off.

Going to voicemail?

_"...H-hello? Hello, hello?"_

"Oh shit, uh. Um, F-Freddy Fraz- uh, Flaz-"

_"Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night."_

Oh. So this was his note.

Face already flushed red from his pathetic attempt of a greeting, because no one decided to tell him he would be answering calls at midnight, he managed to huff out a sigh of relief. The young hunter collapsed back into his chair, the security vest he had been forced to wear nearly choking him from the tightness. Damn purple ass thing...

While his fingers fiddled with the top button to give him room to breathe, the voice continued.

_"Um, I actually worked in that office before you."_

Only now was he starting to gain a grasp to who had left im a message. It was a young man, sounded about his age, and fuck did he sound hot. Thick southern drawl, not quite Texan but a bit hard around the edges.

The voice sounded a bit anxious, as if this was his first time leaving a message. Poor guy must have been getting canned but told to 'train' the new recruit.

Probably the boss didn't want to be up here all night either.

_"I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact."_

Just as he thought.

The button finally popped open, giving him room to suck in a deep breath to fill his lungs up with the smell of cheap pizza and sweaty kids, just as he remembered.

_"So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothang to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine."_

Noth-ang? The drawl was thick right there... God he was a sucker for a good accent. An image started soaking his mind, rugged, chiseled jaw, broad shoulders... Probably got a decent sized cock.

His face flushed up a bit and he shook his head to try to clear the pleasing image. Now he could tell that he had been too busy to even think of jerking it. Barely got to sit for more than a few minutes and already anything was tempting him. Apparently all he needed was a good southern accent to get warmed up.

Damn, how tight were these pants...

Even plucking another button from his shirt couldn't ease the beginning of that familiar heat, one that had been so long since he felt last. Come on, this was his first night on the job! He couldn't make a bad impression so quick, he'd lose it! If they fired a guy for smelling, they surely wouldn't think twice if he covered their shit with come.

...Then again, he was going to be here for six hours. What else did they expect him to do?

The urge became a bit more apparent when he felt the strain against his pants, his face flushing deeper at his own embarrassment. He wasn't a damn teenager anymore... He finally was able to legally drink, after all. But just in case...

Pale blue eyes scanned around the room, searching up at the four corners first. No, no security cameras...

Kinda a stupid flaw in their office, but he would take it. The metal doors were pulled up and open, but it wasn't like any camera was looking in...

...Fuck it.

By the time he had managed to unbutton his pants, the voice had continued on a ways.

_"Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life."_

"Gonna show you a magical place..."

God he was awful at bed talk. At least he had a voice to practice with.

The sound of his fly unzipping made him flinch, being the only sound in the entire building, but it only made his heart hammer. Here he was about to jack it during his first night on the job. Anyone can come in and catch him. He could lose his job. He could lose his apartment. But fuck it, he needed to.

He wished he hadn't decided to wear boxers to work, but he thought it would help make a good impression for the first night. Because he totally expected to be taking off his pants, absolutely. Idiot. Now they were just getting in the way.

_"...a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached and the carpets have been replaced."_

"Gonna make yah set the place on fire after I get through with yah."

Still awful.

Daryl wasn't one to be full of himself on his abilities in bed, mostly because he's only made sweet love to a porno, but he was a bit proud of his ability to be up and ready whenever needed. Once he pulled down the boxer's waistband, his half-way erect member had been properly freed and even touching it made the hunter a bit jumpy.

_"...do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No."_

Daryl did blame him for that damn hot voice, now becoming more relaxed and at ease with recording the message. That allowed the hunter to loosen up in turn, though he made a reminder to bring lube the next time he worked. His hands were raw and calloused and not very sexy at all to manhandle himself.

Groaning softly at this revelation, he did what he had to for the situation and spat onto his open palm. There, that will have to do. The words were becoming useless at this point, but all he needed was that voice.

"Keep talking to me, baby."

_"-and we need to show them a little respect, right?"_

Anything to keep him talking.

The first few jerks were hesitant, his nerves already on end, and he had to add another mouthful of spit to keep from being too rough against his own hand, but all he needed were a few more sentences of that drawl.

Daryl's head lulled back a bit, closing his eyes and focusing on the accent as much as he could, and he was already standing erect in no time. Already he knew that he wouldn't last long, not after being so pent up for so long. Stress with his job had been a boner killer.

_"Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long..."_

His sex life in a single sentence.

By now he was relieved to use just a bit of the precum beading up at the tip to help make the stroking easier. Daryl didn't exactly have a technique or anything like that, he wasn't hard to please. All he had to do was keep stroking, feeling the twitches when the voice would hit a hard drawl. Just keep talking, he was getting there...

_"-there was the bite of 87."_

Ouch, bite? Daryl wondered what it felt like to have teeth on his cock. Would it hurt or would the pain be just what he needed? He gave himself a quick squeeze and felt his breath hitch. Maybe teeth wouldn't be too bad... Along with a nice thick accented tongue... Up and down his shaft...

Something about how amazing the human body was passed by, but he wasn't quite listening anymore. Now he was back to that sweet mental image of the chiseled jaw, possibly with just a hint of a beard, scruffy... Maybe just as tall as him, probably used his hands right where he sat, answering the phone, probably had big ass hands... Oh, that ass right where he's sitting.

Already he could feel the familiar rush of drawing close, but he gave himself another hard squeeze. He wanted to keep listening to that voice, and he would be damned if he didn't make it to the end. There couldn't possibly be that much to explain about this job, right? Watch the anima-whatevers, keep the place upright...

_"try to... forcefully stuff you-"_

Oh god, the idea of being stuffed right now made his ass burn with need. Just the idea of being filled... There couldn't be any harm in letting it off a bit early, right? He wasn't here to impress anyone... Swallowing hard and trying not to shove his other hand down the back of his pants to touch himself even more than necessary, he tried to keep his rhythm going. But all he could think about was being stuffed...

Stuff me full... Make me so full I leak...!

His breathing was getting ragged at this point, and the accent that rolled over him in waves pounded him to the point that he was becoming sloppy. Attempts to keep himself off bay were slipping as he couldn't stop his hand to squeeze himself, and he couldn't help but buck his hips up, imaging that southern cock pounding into him, those words...

_"-having your head forcefully pressed inside-"_

There it was. It was all he needed to tip him over. Daryl didn't bother holding back the gutteral groan of pleasure as he burst, emptying himself while his hand continued to speed up to soak out every moment of the orgasm. He practically milked himself dry as his breathing was in ragged gasps and pants, head pressed deep into the back of the chair as he continued to spill.

God, it was everywhere. It was on the desk, on his shirt, his pants... Next time he was going to have to keep a towel on hand. Surely there was paper towels somewhere nearby.

They couldn't possibly tell him that he was the first one to jack off in this place.

The high was fading at this point, something he whined in grief about. That had been the best in a long time, to listen to that sultry voice... His watering eyes blinked open finally, staring at the roof as his quivering hand soon became lazy in awkward strokes.

_"-see the light of day would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask."_

...Wait. What did he say?

His still foggy mind screeched to a halt as he bolted upright in the chair, still holding his soft penis in one hand while the other was fumbling to grab the phone again.

_"But hey, first day should be a breeze."_

"No it's not! The hell do you mean eyeballs and teeth and that shit?!" Daryl screeched in a pitch a bit higher than he'd care to admit as he managed to grab the phone, yanking it out to speak into it, forgetting of course that this was just a simple voicemail.

"Tell me what the hell you mean with my fucking eyeballs popping out?!"

_"Uh, check those cameras-"_

"WHAT CAMERAS?"

_"-doors only if absolutely necessary-"_

"WHAT ABOUT THE DOOR?!"

_"-conserve power. Alright, good night."_

"Shit, COME BACK! How am I supposed to do this shit?! What's going to happen to my eyeballs?! Tell me! Get the fuck back here, fucking phone guy!"

_Beeeeeeeep_

...Well fuck.

And that's where he sat, staring at the phone in one hand and still holding his cock in the other. The idea of cleaning up was far in the back of his mind at this point, and all he could think about was his eyeballs popping out of his skull.

Wait, he said cameras, right? The monitors!

The phone was thrown against the wall and nearly knocked over that weird cupcake plush as he lunged for the mouse, and began flicking through the cameras as fast as he could.

Okay, party room. Tons of birthday hats and shit. Uh, bathrooms. Kay. Stage-

He froze. His eyes looked off the screen to the walls lined with posters and child drawings. The celebrate one caught his attention of the three main animatronics.

Blue eyes dashed back and forth between the camera feed and the poster, and even went to the cupcake as if it would give him the answers he desired. Camera, poster, camera, poster, camera, poster, camera... Cupcake... Oh God...

"...Where's the bunny."


	2. 1 AM - Night 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it that you think you see?  
> What game do you think you're playing?

The chair had been pushed out to the other side of the room, nearly smashing against the wall. His pants were frantically zipped up, stuffing himself away as much as possible. It was gross and sticky and was going to ruin his good pair of boxers if not his nice pants, but he wasn't going to run around this children pizzeria with his dick flopping out.

Wiping his hands onto a few probably important office papers, he pulled himself closer to the monitor. Yep, the bunny was definitely gone. The bear and what he assumed to be a chicken was still on the stage, but the big purple bunny was gone. Fuck.

Uttering a soft groan, he stood up straight and took a quick glance around his office. There were two doorways on his left and right, with big buttons. Why he hadn't noticed them before was a mystery that he wouldn't bother solving today. One button said DOOR, and the other LIGHT. Ooookay, so that shouldn't be too hard?

Stepping away from his desk and trying not to get himself caught in the cobwebs that lined the walls, he tentively reached out and pressed the door button on the left side of the room.

_Shhunk._

The door slammed with such force that he leaped back a step, making sure that he still had all of his limbs that did not become caught in the downward closing door. That was definitely a health hazard.

The button was lit up now, blinking with a bulb that was probably moments away from burning out, and so he pressed the button again. The metal door slid back up, and it reminded him of a prison door, or even a guilloutine.

Biting onto the inside of his cheek to keep his already flustered nerves steady, he glanced to the second button and gave it a softer, more hesitant press. The sound of light buzzing brought his head up, and he realized that it activated a light right outside the door. He could see just a bit into the hall through a small window, looking at children drawings barely hanging on by a piece of tape and annoying tiled floors and walls.

Glancing to the right side of the room, he soon stepped over and repeated the process. The doors and lights responded accordingly, and he turned both of them off again. Why they didn't just have wooden doors would be beyond him...

But at least now he had a decent understanding of what was in his office. The doors and lights helped him to keep anything from getting in, and the monitors to keep track of anything out there. ...Whatever was out there. Now leaning over the desk since he had abandoned his chair, he grabbed the bulky cream mouse and started to click over the screens. Still no bunny. Cam 1B, no bunny, Cam 1C, no bunny, Cam 5-

_SHIT._

Bulbous dead eyes stared at the screen, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Damn it, Dixon, this wasn't a time to lose his edge! It was just a big ass bunny! But how could it have moved off the stage in the first place? His heart rammed against his ribs as he stared back into the magenta eyes, and he could see the mechanisms behind it. It didn't move, and he wondered if the monitor was frozen, but the camera still swiveled back and forth, back and forth...

...No, this wasn't actually happening. It was ridiculous. This was a prank, wasn't it? Pick on the new kid?

Heaving a loud sigh of relief, Daryl allowed his body to loosen, and a smirk tugged at his cheeks. They probably saw him jack it off and were teasing him for it... A bit of a dick move, but he would handle it.

"...Alright, guys, ha ha. Yah got me," he called out, leaning out the left door. His voice echoed across the vacant halls, and he realized that they probably weren't going to give away their positions just yet. They probably had more than a few tricks up their sleeves, probably going to jump out and say "Boo!" a few times. Like a big creepy fun house. Nothing says fun like a haunted pizzeria.

Ducking back into the office, he soon fetched a flashlight and took the cupcake plush, probably so that he had something to throw at his new coworkers. He took a closer look at it, turning it in his hand. It had a single striped candle with a plush fire, frosted pink with big gold eyes. Huh, it was actually kinda cute.

"...Gonna call yah Carl," he mumbled, tossing it in his hand a few times before glancing out to the hall. He clicked the flashlight on and shown it down the hallway. Damn, this place needed a good cleaning... Maybe it would be something for him to do. He wasn't much of a clean-freak, but it would be something to do through the six hours on shift. Well, if he wasn't bothered by coworkers all night.

"Alright, come out. Ain't gonna deal with your shit," he called out as he stepped out into the left hallway, shining his light here and there. He was vaguely familiar with the layout... He couldn't remember if he had been here or not, or just heard about the place.

It had been in this town for a long time, at least a decade or two. They had remodeled it several times, abandoned it, then came back. To his understanding, it was the very first location, and the building showed it. It still had the old tile, some of it cracking and some stones were obviously replaced. Paint was chipping, drawings beginning to yellow, and it just felt... tired.

His steps were nearly silent against the tile as he glanced to his left, seeing the storage room. Brooms, cleaning supplies, everything was still there. Seeing the cobwebs only proved his thought that no one had time for cleaning, possibly being too busy. It was the summer, after all. Kids out of school, they get to enjoy their time with pizza and arcade games.

A pang latched into his chest but he forced it away. His summers were always spent at home when he was young. He would hide in his room or roam the forest that surrounded their home, but he was almost constantly alone. He'd rather be alone than... with him.

Daryl cleared his throat, trying to distract himself with his thoughts. The memories alone made his back burn...

He pushed back the curtains that led to the party room, one that he assumed would normally be filled with laughter, music and children, but now was empty. It was lonely in a way, with the remaining two animatronics standing, frozen midsong. Only a single spotlight was upon the stage, accenting the colors. The bear was a deep brown with bright blue eyes. His jaws were parted and he lifted up his microphone, but was now frozen.

The chicken stood to his left, looking across the empty party room. Probably a backup singer, and she held her own little cupcake in her hand, sitting on a plate. It was a plastic prop, about the same size as his own plush. They probably sold the stupid things, probably had a prize corner somewhere.

Arcade machines lined the walls on the opposite side of the party room, and in between were multiple tables with party hats, all waiting for the children of the next day. How much money did they waste on replacing those hats every night? Or on the tablecloths they had to keep clean?

Huffing to himself, he shined the flashlight to the left.

Purple starred curtains... Now those were familiar. The "Out of Order" sign, though, was not. The curtains were closed, and they seemed to have been that way for a long time. Curiosity peaked, but he stifled it back. Chances are that the coworkers were hiding behind the curtains, and he wouldn't give away their spot just yet.

Rolling his eyes to their obvious hiding place, he continued on to the next room, this time moving just farther down the left, with the sign "Parts and Services" labeling the door opened just slightly. Now if he was paying close enough attention to the map, this should be where that giant rabbit would be...

The fingers around the flashlight adjusted themselves nervously, as if a better hold would give a better look inside the darkened room. Alright, this wouldn't be too hard... Walk in, pretend to be frighten, throw a cupcake at them and swear their ass to leave since he was the only one supposed to be on shift. When he had met Mr. Cawthon, he hadn't expected that this place was as close knit as this. One had been cleaning up child vomit, another trying to fend off a toddler trying to climb the chicken...

May as well be close if you're gonna clean up vomit together.

Must be initiation to the Freddy family. Scoffing to himself about how ridiculous this all was, he reached out and touched the door carefully. It was a thick metal door, and it had actually taken a bit of effort to open it farther. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to lift the flashlight and shine it inside.

The first thing he saw was the assortment of heads that lined the walls. Not human heads of course. Spare animatronic heads. A few were torn up, others seemed to be in perfect condition... Could probably be a cool costume. There were a few springs and joints scattered across the shelf... The light slowly passed over the shelves, then came the corner of a wooden table that stood in the center.

And sitting atop it was what looked like a silver endoskeleton of an animatronic.

A shiver raked down his spine as he took a careful step closer, all thoughts of his mission now fleeing. The eyes were so large, had ears sticking out the sides of his head... The silver was polished and new, stainless steel. Was probably worth a good amount of money... But why would they not be using what appeared to be a fully functioning animatronic?

_creeeeak..._

Rusty hinges began their slow crunch back to life. Every muscle in his body froze, and he could swear his heart skipped a few beats. Does he dare look up...?

_Creeeeeak...!_

It was louder this time, and multiple hinges were being awakened. It was right beside him. It was _right beside him!_

The teeth, the massive jaws, the sharp claws beneath the foam...! 

"...If this is your idea of a fucking joke..." was the whisper that choked into his throat. The cranks were beginning to grind together, gears reeling back. His breathing stopped in his chest, and his mind was rushing. This wasn't happening again. Not the bunny, not the bunny.

Red, so much red, it matted the suits. All over the crisp, gold-

_CreeeeeeeAAAK-_

It stopped.

The images stopped flashing through his head, giving him dead silence. There was only the sound of his blood thundering through his ears, so loud that he thought his head would errupt from the pressure alone. Does he dare look up... Did he dare look it in the eyes...

The flashlight trembled within his grasp, making shadows dance across the dirty walls, shaped by jagged parts, open jaws, metalic limbs. But slowly, his hand managed to gain control of the light, and began the slow rise to his left. His eyes followed the light across the blank wall, watching every crack and detail. His vision failed him now and then, trying to soak the walls in red, streaking it, the shadows haunting.

A bead of sweat slipped down his temple, starting the slow decent down his face. Yet he forced himself to keep moving, to follow the light, follow the light, if he moved slow enough, it may not see him...!

_...SKREEEEAAA-_

The screech shattered the silence, and the large purple mass came into his sights. The jaws were stretched wide, the endoskeleton set of teeth glinting in the light. It stood taller than him, easily looming over him and was heading straight for him!

The scream Daryl let out was one he would be ashamed to hear himself expell, but he would be lucky to survive long enough to recall it. Not as he violently jolted back, falling back against the wall and pinning himself between it and the beast.

He narrowly missed the massive paw that slammed down onto the table where he had been moments ago, audibly snapping the wood and crushing extra tools left sitting out. The head turned towards him, the dead eyes staring through him, and the massive body swung across the small room.

Daryl wasn't there to see what happened next. Not as he turned and fled through the still-opened doorway, only to slam it back behind him with unknown strength. He stumbled just outside the door, his mind swirling with the prospect of shoving a table against the door or to flee.

The booming pounds on the other side decided for him.

Adrenaline surged through him as he turned left, and all he could see was the open hallway. Papers fluttered as he sprinted past, and he nearly slipped on a loose piece of paper. He collected himself just barely, using the tiled wall for support. It didn't matter if he couldn't hear anything behind him. It didn't matter that he was fit and surely able to outrun a large machine aged by decades.

All that mattered was that he got the _fuck outta this hellhole!_

Daryl grabbed onto the doorframe and threw himself around the turn, and his hand slammed down against the large button. The silver door slammed down without delay, but he couldn't chance it. He leaped to the other side of the room and slammed the button, and now he was fully closed inside the office.

In his hands was the shaking flashlight and the cheeky cupcake, squeezed so tight that the eyes should have popped out by now. Yet he turned back to the door on the left and pressed his back tight against it, as if he could possibly hold back the monster that surely had followed him.

_THUMP. THUM-THUMP-_

It was still there!

He could feel the power of the swings as they smashed against the steel door, and could hear the groaning of mechanical parts with the motions that the machine was not designed to do. His eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself tighter against the door, and his teeth snapped together.

_Oh God, just let me live! Let me live! Let me live and I promise that I won't touch a drop of alcohol again! I'll change, I swear! I'll even go to chur-_

...The banging stopped.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes flashed open, yet he could only focus on the heavy steps that slowly walked away.

_Plop. Plop. Plop. ...plop... plop..._

_...about that last part, uh... what I meant was..._

The breath escaped in a groan, and the strength that held his body gave out beneath him, leaving the man in a mess of trembling flesh and clothes, clutching against the plush that he now held tightly to his chest. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he panted for his breath again, curling up against the metal door.

What had he gotten himself into...


	3. 2 AM - Night 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the day, it's a place of joy  
> But you aren't here during the day  
> You have the night watch.

"Okay... Deep breaths... It's just a bunny, it's just a bunny...!"

Cameras flicked by on the single working monitor, clicking through the expansion of them at a fast rate. He had to keep an eye on all of them, keep an eye on the robot... things. Should be easy enough to deal with.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to dry away the tears he had pathetically spilled and awkwardly cleared his throat to rid of the emotion. He had to just calm down and try to remember what that guy said... Doors and lights...

There was a small icon on the left bottom corner of the monitor, a battery level. He was currently at about 60%, probably because he had used both the doors to keep out the rabbit. All he had to do was survive until the morning...

There was a digital clock on the wall, and it had only just passed 2 AM. There were still four more hours to go, and the quiet first hour was now a distant memory.

Every little noise caught his attention, even when it was something like a paper fluttering. He would dart out to the left or right door with the flashlight, shining it down, and only when he was sure there was nothing, would come back inside. His goal was to keep himself from using the doors and lights as much as he could.

Another quick check with the lights, and there was still no one here. The rabbit had found a home inside the party room, looking around for -something-. It had the appearance of a smile, and it gave another chill down his spine. It was acting as if nothing had happened, as if it hadn't tried to yank him down and rip him apart.

Probably make his eyes and teeth pop out.

A few more clicks and he had located the chicken that had left the stage about fifteen minutes ago, and was now by the restrooms. At least he went to the restroom before he came to work... Either that or the rabbit probably would have made him piss his pants anyway.

Bear was still on the stage, and looked like he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. The lights behind his eyes were down, and had not so much as twitched the entire time Daryl had been here.

The only company he had now was the stupid plush cupcake, Carl, staring at him with big ol' eyes. He was judging him for doing such a horrible job... Daryl just knew it.

He glanced down to the plush, his teeth clamping together before he abruptly reached out and turned the plush. It now was staring into the corner and away from him. All it did was make him nervous.

Once he looked back, he realized that he had been on the monitor a bit too long and was draining the delicate power, and quickly turned off the screen. Why he couldn't just bring a battery pack or a generator was beyond him.

Sighing loudly at his predicament, he allowed himself to sit back down on the rolling chair. It made moving back and forth between the doors that much more easier, and he thought he deserved the right to be a bit lazy.

There was little to do now, not when he was intent on saving the power as much as he could. He had a feeling that things would get a bit more rambuntious as the night went on, the animatronics wanting to loosen up their joints, and sink their teeth into his head.

A creak to the right made his body jolt up, eyes flashing to the doorway. It was too dark to see if anything lingered on the outside, but he wasn't going to leave anything to chance. Pushing himself on the chair, he rolled his way over and slapped the light button.

Nothing there. No chicken-duck-thing. Great, he was already hearing things.

Hissing softly to himself, he let his eyes almost constantly dart to the electronic clock. The red blaring numbers were scorching into his head at this point, and every change of a number was a mixture of relief and anxiety, knowing that it was one minute closer to the end of his shift, but -not close enough-.

Daryl rolled himself to the desk again, pressing his arms onto the desk. He needed something to pass the time. Something that wasn't looking at the camera, blaring the hall lights or slamming doors. Or anything else that could use power. Hell, did oxygen use power? If he breathed too fast, would he use up 10% more power? 20%? Would he die the moment that the power went out?

Shit. He needed to do something. That wasn't jacking off.

...But then again, the guy on the phone sounded fucking _hot_.

No, focus.

Don't jack off.

Desk, there had to be something in the desk.

His hands fumbled with the drawers, and he yanked the first one open. Hell, he didn't care if this got him fired at this point. He'd rather live in a fucking alley than be here. If anything, he could try to go back to his old house... If it was still standing.

Tried to sell that shit off for years but no one would take it. No matter how much he lowered the price, just to get enough money to keep his apartment for a while, no one would buy it. No one wanted Dixon property, not even to mow over the house and build something else.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he started flipping through random folders that were shoved inside. Some were marked with normal tags, such as receipts, inventory, shipments from food delivery and products from Fazbear Entertainment... Hopefully he could do something to make sure he got fired.

But not enough to go to prison. Merle had told him far too much of how the prison life was cruel and punishing, and Daryl had no wish to experience it himself. Hell, his record was clean. Not even a speeding ticket.

Didn't matter, though. Was still a Dixon.

Scrounging through the files, he finally took interest in a specific one in the way back. The tab was marked 'Freddy Fazbear info'. May as well try to research the beasts trying to kill him...

Daryl quickly opened up the monitor again and flicked through the cameras. Rabbit was in the party room, and it sounded like the chicken was in the kitchen. Freddy was on the stage, having not moved from his interrupted song. He was safe. For now.

He flashed his eyes down to the power meter. 40%. Swallowing hard, he looked to the clock, then caught his breath. It was close to four AM. He could do this if he didn't slam all the doors down like an idiot for nearly an hour like he had at first.

The recovered file was plopped onto the desk, nearly scattering the loose pages across. Opening the file, he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose. The pages were old, stained even. Most of them were writing, while others were sketches or even printed pictures. Pulling up the chair closer to the desk, he tucked himself into the folder and began flicking through pages.

First page he saw was the basic design details, measurements of the head, the body, what specific color of pelt it had and where the materials were bought... It almost sounded like the creature was made from scraps, or as a personal project before being sold to the company.

The papers were sometimes marked with dates. The original one was back in December of '82, detailing the ability to move around the restaurant, listening to sounds to get closer to children, basic mechanics. It seemed that overtime, parts were scrapped. There were notes of repairs and changes in pieces, upgrades, following up until '86. Then they were left to rot, apparently, and now there were pages detailing what could be used as spare parts to _other_  machines at a new location.

Before he could get himself too caught up, he checked the monitor. Big ass bunny was closing in, and his heart nearly rammed its way out of his throat. Abandoning the papers, he pushed himself away from the desk and rolled the chair to the left door.

He didn't even bother with the light, not as he slammed down the door when he could hear the grinding of gears. The damn things were -old-, far more than a decade if this was the original batch when the Freddy was made. They creaked and groaned, aching much like a zombie.

Daryl sucked in a deep breath and held it, forcing his body not to move.

...thump, thump... thump... thump...

Good. Big ass bunny is gone.

Pressing the button to open the door, he whirled his way back to the monitor and did a quick check. Both bunny and chicken were in the party room. Hell, at least someone was having fun tonight.

Huffing a sigh, he closed the monitor and went back to the papers. He was at 1986.

It skipped a couple years, sticky notes mentioning that the pelt needed to be replaced as it had gotten ragged and was full of stains, not to mention the -smell-. Probably from children puke. God, if he never got a bath while being a child's junglegym...

1992, the crisp papers returned. Reworked endoskeletons, using the main body but replacing the head with a spare as the other had broken. Now they were locked on the stage, but soon enough, the reports came in of glitching, of the bear shorting out from not being able to move.

Then there was the note. Able to roam at night, but locked to the stage in the morning, being recalled immediately when the lights went on at 6 AM.

...That would have been useful to know. But maybe he had been -told- that by that devil of a sexy voice and just jacked off to all the important shit.

A quick glance to the clock. 5:30 AM. He was _so_  close.

Another check on the monitors, and the right door was quickly closed to not allow the chicken inside. It took longer to leave than the bunny, making Daryl nervous to eating away the power. He only had 20% left, and he worried that the closer it got to zero, the worse the doors and lights would respond. Would they become sluggish? Could he not rely on them?

No, he had to keep focused. Focus on the huge mechanical monsters that wanted to come into the room and stuff him into a suit. Or whatever.

Daryl had resorted to chewing on his thumb, staring at the red numbers as they ticked closer, and closer...!

5:57... 5:58... 5:59...!

The sound of the lights kicking on made Daryl jump, almost hiding behind the desk chair in fear of now being attacked. But no. It wasn't any of that.

It was 6AM and he was -alive-.

" _Fuck_  this job!" Daryl screeched, throwing his hands in the air in heavy relief. _Never_  had he been so stressed in such a small amount of time.

He took no hesitation in bolting out into the now lit left hallway, peering down to make sure that none of the machines lurked close. They -should- be back on the stage, and the fuck away from him!

His head snapped back, staring at the door that had automatically locked behind him for the beginning of the shift. The knob was wiggling. There was the sound of a click, and then it opened.

"I fucking _quit!_ " Daryl shouted even before the man had stepped into the hall. It was his boss, of course, the same he had met with earlier in the day. Mr. Scott Cawthon.

He was Texan, and a gentle man. Smiling and happy, even as the little mongrels raised hell in the pizzeria. You almost -had- to like kids to deal with this business.

Said man blinked a few times, then let out a sigh. "Mr. Dixon, I believe you should remember that you're under contract...?"

"Dude, do you have _any_  idea the hell I've been through?!" Daryl hissed, any level of patience and knowing not to piss off the boss being tossed away. No, he almost got _squashed_  by a rabbit.

"You should have listened to the recording."

"The recor- I didn't sign up for this!"

"But you did." As if preparing for this entire discussion, Mr. Cawthon reached into his jacket pocket and unfolded a piece of paper. "Right on the dotted line. Agreed to watch the pizzeria from 12 AM to 6 AM, security management of the animatronics and possible break-ins."

Shit. Daryl could see his handwritting from where he stood, and his mouth dropped.

"You have to finish the week for your paycheck. It will be given to you promptly after your Friday night shift by me personally, rather than having to wait another week. If you change your mind after that day, you can quit, but I will raise your salary if you intend to stay with us as a member of the Fazbear family."

A swift smile was given to Daryl, one that made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Daryl couldn't afford to not get paid, literally. Rent was due in two weeks, and his landlord would not be willing to give him a break.

He physically could not quit this job.

The Texan man stepped past him, already walking down the hall. "You will learn, and I have a feeling you will be an expert by the end of the week," he called after Daryl, giving him a wave. "You are free to leave. Have a good night."

Daryl's jaw still hung open as the man walked away, probably to make sure the animatronics were unharmed. It was only by his subconscious that he walked out of that pizzeria, climbed onto his motorcycle, and drove home.

By the time he had unlocked the door to his shitty apartment, all the strength had left his body and he collapsed onto the ragged sofa.

How the fuck was he going to do four more days of this shit?

...At least if he died, he wouldn't have to pay rent. That was a plus.


End file.
